Wow, I must have really been on quite a trip—and apparently, it wasn't over yet. I shook my head, trying to make sense of what had been said.

"What did Tom do?"

The man's expression changed from incredulous to sympathetic, which scared me more than any outburst of anger could have.

"Miss, I'm sorry to have to inform you, but your friend was found dead last night at 02:51am in the alley, next to your apartment building. All evidence points to a crime of passion..." The officer cleared his throat awkwardly and rubbed his forehead. "Your DNA and fingerprints were found all over the victim..." he continued, but his voice reached me only as if someone had wrapped me up in cotton. "When the officers searched the house for witnesses, they found you slumped in the elevator of your building, your clothes soaked in his blood..."

I tried to understand.

Tom. 

Was dead?

No, that didn't sound right.

Tom was gone?

Even that thought didn't make sense. Tom had never been gone. Since we met, we had never spent much time apart... Heaven, sometimes I could have used a break. Not that Tom would have granted it to me. He had hovered around me like an overprotective hen, almost obsessed with being near me and watching over me.

I felt dizzy and stumbled blindly against the sympathetic officer, who looked at me with concern. He seemed to believe in my innocence—or at least wanted to comfort me for the moment. But the question was, was I innocent?

With that thought, I had opened a door. And there they came. The images. As soon as I had actually asked myself the question about my whereabouts, everything came back to me. The elevator, the blood, the voices of the man and the woman, how I had hidden, how I had accidentally gotten that man, Erics, attention. How he had stepped on the elevator, stepping over Tom's body.

Oh my God, Tom's body.

My stomach turned, and I vomited loudly into the nearest trash can.

"For heaven's sake!" cursed a balding man in his mid-fifties who had just turned the corner with a donut in his hand. His whole appearance screamed bored and disgruntled detective hoping to retire soon. I was screwed.

My nice officer stood up straight and smoothed his uniform.

"Detective, the suspect is awake!"

"No kidding, Jones!" the man mocked him and clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "You better be useful and get me a coffee..."

"Yes, Cohan, Sir!"

And with that, my nice officer disappeared, leaving me alone with the annoyed detective.

With a raised eyebrow, he looked down at me, his hands on his hips.

"So, do you have anything else to say in your defense, or should I just draw up the confession paper?"

I wiped my mouth and tried to sit up, dizzy. "Could you maybe get me a glass of water? Or a piece of gum?"

The man snorted. "You better get used to the fact that from now on, you'll only get your meals at predetermined times. Especially luxury items like gum..."

Nice. So, he would leave me in the interrogation room with the taste of vomit in my mouth and the burning stomach acid in my throat.

He put a bottle of water on the metal table in front of him and motioned for me to sit on the free chair opposite him.

"Shall we?"

Every muscle protested as I pulled myself up from the floor and dragged myself to the chair. I couldn't remember the last time I had been so exhausted, if ever...

I saw the detective's mouth moving. At the edge of my awareness, I heard him recounting the events similar to his colleague before. Tom, dead in the alley, crime of passion, all evidence found directly on the scene. Unlike his colleague, the case was closed for him, and he was already thinking about ordering his "case closed" steak.

"I didn't kill him!" I tried to explain, but the man interrupted me again.

Tears filled my eyes. It took a lot of effort not to just break down and give in to my emotions. Others would probably have already collapsed. But others hadn't had years of experience with loss, rejection, and false accusations...

"If you confess right away, we can reduce your prison sentence by 5 years. If it goes to trial, I'm sure due to the severity of your crime and all the gaps in your background, it will result in 25 years to life..."

Before he could finish the sentence, the door flew open, and a man in his thirties entered the interrogation room. He was huge, really a giant of a man, with friendly brown eyes and full brown wavy hair. His suit was nice, maybe a tad too small, which didn't surprise me considering all the muscles he seemed to be packing underneath. Simply put: He looked like a damn Adonis.

As soon as he entered the room, I felt better, and a heavy burden lifted from me. My head was less foggy, and the headache changed from nausea-inducing migraine to hangover headache. I could live with that.

Curiously, I looked at him. He began to speak with a deep, full voice my confused head and broken heart latch onto like a baby kitten. "Good day, my name is Herveraux! I am Mrs. Andersson's lawyer. Please leave the room and let me speak with my client..."

"She hasn't requested a lawyer!"

That's right, I really hadn't, had I. It hadn't even occurred to me. Had anyone even pointed out the option to me?

"Has the client even been read her rights?" the lawyer voiced my thoughts, and I shook my head.

Angrily, Mr. Herveraux glared at the detective.

"Then I can assume with some certainty that my client has not been arrested at this time," he continued, which slowly but surely flushed Detective Cohan's face with anger.

"When your client was apprehended, she was unconscious..." he defended himself.

"And you thought it would be a good idea to pick up an unconscious young woman without a medical examination and pin a murder case on her!"

"The evidence clearly shows..."

"The evidence was collected from my client's body while she was unconscious and is therefore dismissible . Any statements connecting her to the crime or implying her involvement are, until a medical examination confirms the defendant's mental and physical health, invalid and therefore irrelevant for the further investigation."

Wow. I really should look for a lawyer as a friend. He could really take everything out of context and spin a new story. With my mouth hanging open, I looked at my grim-faced rescuer, who focused his intense gaze on the detective. I was almost glad he was focusing on him rather than looking me in the eye. My emotions were so stirred up that I wasn't sure how I would react.

The detective, on the other hand, had turned as red as a tomato and angry veins stood out on his face and neck.

"IF YOU THINK YOU CAN COME IN HERE AND SHAKE UP A CLOSED CASE..." he screamed and menacingly approached Mr. Herveraux. He was more than a head shorter and much bulkier. It looked ridiculous. And the fact that he was shouting didn't exactly enhance his credibility.

Herveraux merely raised an eyebrow and then, as a show, turned to me.

My lawyer reached past the enraged detective and held out his hand to me, indicating that I should stand up. Gratefully, I accepted it, and warmth flowed towards me. He briefly raised his eyebrows in surprise, but then he was distracted by Detective Cohan poking him in the chest. He pushed his hand away, defending me: "The case is far from closed. Your suspect isn't arrested and is free for the time being. I will now accompany her out!"

He continued to tower over the detective, who seemed to want to object again, which now seemed to take over the entire room.

"And if you ever dare to poke me in the chest so insolently again or unjustly harass my client, I will sue the precinct for assault!" His voice sounded like a growl, and finally Mr. Cohan seemed to understand that in this case, it might be better to let it rest.

The lawyer turned back to me. "Come now!"

I didn't need to be told twice. I quickly slipped through the door that was held open for me and glanced over my shoulder one last time at the grim-looking detective as he angrily swept files and the water bottle off the table and began to curse.

Instinctively, I ducked my head down and made sure to get going.

The police station was bustling, but thanks to Mr. Herveraux's size, everyone seemed to get out of our way and let us pass. Cowardly, I hid behind his broad back. I watched the looks of the others. Envy, fascination, or even respect seemed to come from them. I was never regarded with such looks.

Once we had left the police station, I tilted my head back and gratefully breathed in the stuffy, stinking city air with closed eyes. After I opened them again, the man held a piece of gum and a bottle of water in front of my nose—just as I had requested earlier. Surprised, I looked into his now friendly face and gratefully accepted both.

"Thank you, Mr. Herveraux!" I said with a shaky voice. Now that the initial shock had worn off and relief set in, tears welled up in my eyes, and I cleared my throat in an attempt to compose myself.

"Alcide! And you're welcome!" He held out his hand to me again, and I shook it. Again, I noticed the warmth of his hand. Despite his height, his build and grim looks I couldn't help but feel, like the warmth did not only emanate from his body heat but also from within. Alice was... kind. My knight in shining armor. 

Blinking rapidly I surpressed another surge of tears."Ashley. Or rather, Ash!"

He nodded and tilted his head. Silence fell between us.

"Don't you want to ask me if I did it?" I blurted out. For some reason, I wanted Alcide to like me. To believe me. Not to think of me as the murderer of my boyfriend.

He waved it off. "That's not my job. My job is to prevent you from going to jail."

Well, that was, although correct, quite sobering. Of course, he was just doing his job. Maybe no shining armor. No moral standards... Disappointed, I lowered my head and my hand, crossing my arms over my chest. "Right."

"Besides, I already know you didn't do it!" he unexpectedly continued, making me perk up again.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes!"

"And where, may I ask, did you get that information?"

Alcide chuckled.

"You're welcome to ask, but I won't give you an answer. We all have our little secrets." He winked at me, then became serious again. "The important thing is that I know you didn't do it. Unfortunately, the evidence as such is quite damning. They did a decent frame job. If that's the case..."

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a business card. "Or if you find yourself in trouble for any reason and have something on your mind, give me a call!"

He looked me intensely in the eyes, and I wasn't sure how to interpret his behavior. He was so... nice. For a moment, I felt the urge to share all the secrets of the past few hours with him, to cry and bury myself in his big, strong arms. Surprised by this strong and unexpected impulse, I quickly took the card from him.

"Good to know, thank you very much!"

Alcide still looked at me curiously. It was starting to get uncomfortable.

"Well then, make sure to rest well. My condolences again for what happened..." he said finally, then turned around and made his way home.

Overwhelmed, I stood there for another minute, frozen in front of the police station that had just arrested me for the murder of my friend. Then, for the first time that evening, the events of the last 24 hours caught up with me, and I collapsed like a bundle of misery on the sidewalk. It wasn't until fifteen minutes later that I was able to walk to the apartment, tears streaming down my face.

I only took time to pack my bag, before leaving a home that had ceased to be mine a few hours earlier.

A/N:

Yes, I made Alcide a lawyer. Sue me! Clever as he is, I can well imagine that besides the company he supports with his father, he certainly once had his own ambitions. Tada --> Law school and a life as a public defense lawyer in New York.

In the next chapter, life in and around Bon Temps continues. I hope you enjoyed my little trip into the past. Or well, at least some questions were answered. Soon we'll get back to our favorite vampire!